Fuck, Twilight. This, my friends, is how you do a vampire love story. Leave it to director Tomas Alfredson to show that the Swedes aren’t all about the existential quandaries of Bergman.
12-year old Oskar (Kare Hedebrant) is the picture of Scandinavian perfection with his light skin, blue eyes, and mop of blond hair. Constantly picked on by school bullies, he comforts himself by clipping news articles about violent crimes and revenge fantasies. His mother and estranged father are oblivious to his problems. One night, he stabs at a tree with a switchblade, imagining the face of his tormentors when he meets Eli (Lina Leandersson), a girl of like age who has just moved in next door. She introduces herself, ”Just so you know, I can’t be your friend.” Oskar seems to be fine with that. Both kids claim they just want to be left alone, but find themselves magnetically drawn to each other. In Eli, Oskar finds the friend he so desperately wants (and needs) and an assertive voice that urges him to stand up against the bullies.
Oh, Oskar, if you only knew your new gal pal was a vampire. Eli’s “father” is behind many of the murders in Oskar’s scrapbook, but his recent fumbling have forced Eli to take action, picking off the neighbors and raising awareness of her existence.
Screenwriter John Lindqvist adapted the script from his own novel and has fashioned a story of dualities on several levels. There is innocence and darkness in both Oskar and Eli. There’s no telling how old Eli may truly be (in the novel, she’s 200), but she is still every bit the typical 12-year old (”…more or less.”), finding fascination in a Rubik’s Cube. The kids even learn Morse code as their own secret language. The film also doesn’t shy away from the naïve sexuality between the characters. The child actors (both making their film debuts) are amazing in conveying these complex emotions, never overplaying their hand as most would.
Cinematographer Hoyte Van Hoytema captures the beauty and the loneliness of the Swedish suburbs and countryside. The virgin white snow never changes amidst the blood red and black night. Apartment buildings and hospital hallways that are detached and alien. Even more intimate settings such as school gymnasiums and Oskar’s bedroom fell as vast and cold as the banks of snow outside. It all emphasizes how small and lonely the children truly are. Much like the relationship between Oskar and Eli, there’s beauty in the film to be found among the ugliness. Alfredson throws in quite a few pillow shots, but there’s a serene quality to them and they never border on indulgence.
If you’re looking for a Saw/Hostel-type experience, you’re looking in the wrong place. Let the Right One In is poetic in its horror, artfully and intelligently painting death and tragedy without resorting to gore and shock value. Not to say this is a sterile film. There’s blood, but done in an inventive fashion. In particular, I point out the attack of the cats sequence, another scene involving human immolation, and the film’s brutal climax. We also finally learn what happens to a vampire when they come in without being invited.
Label it a horror film or a vampire movie, if you must, but Let the Right One In proves the dark side of humanity is far more frightening than blood-sucking creatures of the night.
Rating: ****
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